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COPYRIGHT, i8gb 
JOHN LANE 



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DEAR MOTHER, THESE TO YOU I GIVE, 
ALTHOUGH THE WORDS ALREADY LIVE 
WITHIN YOUR HEART; FOR YOU HAVE HEARD 
MY VERSES, EVERY LINE AND WORD- 
YEA, EVEN BEFORE THE THOUGHTS HAD TIME 
TO FEEL THEMSELVES AT HOME IN RHYME. 
YET THERE IS SOMETHING IN THE LOOK 
AND HANDLING OF A PRINTED BOOK 
THAT SEEMS TO SAY, " LO, HERE IS CAUGHT 
THE SPOKEN WORD OR PASSING THOUGHT 
THAT, TOUCHING SOME MYSTERIOUS SPRING, 
MAKES ALL THE PAST A LIVING THING." 

SO YOU MAY READ, WHO READ BETWEEN 

THE LINES BECAUSE YOUR EYES HAVE SEEN 

THE CHILD AND HIS CHILD-POEMS GROW. 

A POEM OTHERS MAY NOT KNOW 

IN GLIMPSES OF THAT JOYOUS LIFE 

ALL ON THE SUNNY SHORES OF FIFE. 

AND HEAR IN SONG, THOUGH FAINT AND DIE, 

AN ECHO OF THE VOICE OF HIM 

WHO PASSED AND LEFT US ALL BEFORE 

HIS HEART SUMMED HALF THE YEARS HE WORE. 



SO, MOTHER DEAR, THIS BOOK TO YOU! 

IT MAY BUILD UP THE PAST ANEW 

UNTIL AS IN A DREAM YOU SEE 

YOUR CHILDREN GATHER ROUND YOUR KNEE 

TO LISTEN WHILE A CHAPTER'S READ, 

THEN LISP THEIR PRAYERS AND GO TO BED. 

AND WHEN THEY'RE SOUND ASLEEP YOU'LL SIT 

TO HEAR THE WHILE YOU SEW OR KNIT, 

THEIR FATHER'S VOICE SO RICH IN TONE 

GIVE VERSE A CHARM NOT ALL ITS OWN; 

OR FROM HIS BIG CHAIR READ AGAIN 

SOME PASSAGE FROM HIS LOVED MONTAIGNE. 





Babfs Big World 

The Stars 

Froifi a Bedroom Window 

Morning Song 

Hiding 

Wading 

A Lost Week 

Sailing 



Page 3 
7 

lO 

II 

17 
20 
24 

27 





CONTENTS 




Santa Claus 




Page 31 


Winter Nights 




34 


Story Time 




36 


Lullaby 




3S 




The World's Music 43 

The Music of the Spheres 46 

The Birds' Sojtgs 47 

The Wind's Song 49 

The Song of the Kettle 52 

The Crows SS 

The Sea Shell 59 

What the Leaves Say 62 



CONTENTS 




PICTURED. 



The Eyes of God 

Jack Frost 

A Queer Thing 

How the Flowers Grow 

Sabbath Days 

Springti7ne 

The Coward Nettle 

Rain in Spring 

A Mystery 

Goa's Work 

Dreams 

In the Harvest Field 

On the Beach 

City Sparrows 



Page 6g 
70 
73 
74 
78 
81 
84 
86 

S7 
go 

94 
g6 
g8 

TOO 



CONTENTS 




The Sleeping World 


Page 10 S 


A Portrait 


JO 6 


Caddie 


Jo8 




T~J 



Romance 
Chivalry 
Robinson Crusoe 
Time and Tide 
Shipwreck 
Fairyland 
My Valentine 



113 
116 
120 
124 
126 
i2g 
133 



CONTENTS 




To Rob and May 

To Bessie 

To May and Mary 

To Auntie 

To the Boys of Barncraig 

To All Children 



Page 139 
141 
144 
147 
149 
154 





HOME 

AND 
PLAY 



r-w^^^ 



i^BV^S DIG WORLD 




BABY'S BIG WO RLD \ 

So. she climbs upon a chair ; 

Gazes out with round, blue eyes. 
While the sunlight on her hair 

Makes it golden as the skies. 



What a big, big world she sees ! 

Leafy lanes and winding rills, 
Great, green fields and shady trees, 

And far away, the silent hills. 



Round about the setting sun 

Clouds are bidding him good-night^; 
Baby sees them, every one, 

Glowing in his golden light. 



When the clouds are growing dim 
And their gold has changed to red, 

Baby sings her evening hymn, 

Lisps her prayer, and goes to bed. 



Ere the stars begin to peep 
In the heavens, east and west, 

Baby will be sound asleep, 
Like a birdie in its nest 



BABY'S BIG WORL Di- 
still, perhaps, in dreams she sees, 

Leafy lanes, and winding rills, 
Great, green fields and shady trees ; 

Golden clouds and silent hills. 




the:3tak'=). 




OPEN the shutters, put out the h'ght ; 
Our gowns are on and our prayers, are 
said ; 
And now we must bid the stars good-night, 
Ere mother haps us up in bed. 

Around the window, one, two, three, 

There's Httle May and Rob and me. 

7 



THE STARS 

Father opens the shutters a chink ; 

Then lowers the light to let us spy 
The stars that stare, and the stars that bUnk, 
A million lamps in the curtained sky. 
Around the window, hand in hand, 
Three children in their night-gowns stand. 

"Yonder's the big one." Little May 

Has seen him first, then Rob, then me.. 
For I am the oldest, and that's the way 
We should watch the stars across the sea.. 
Three little children in a row, 
To watch the big one flash and glow. 

Then Rob with his face to the window pressed 

Picks out the red one among the white; 
For that's the star that Rob likes best 
Because it shines like the harbour light. 
But I point out the row of three 
That stand like May and Rob and me, 

Then father, while we stand and gaze, 

Talks of the sky and names the stars ; 
Mine is Orion's belt ; and May's 
Is Sirius ; and Rob's is Mars. 

Then into our cosy beds we creep ; 
For it's time that children were all asleep. 
8 



THE STARS 

-Good-night, you stars that gUnt and gleam. 

The shutters are shut ; the curtains drawn ; 
But we'll see you shining down in dream, 
Till you all go out with the rosy dawn. 
Father and mother, a kiss, good-night ! 
We'll wake when you let in .the morning 
light. 





TKOM A BCDKOOM WINDOT^ 



DAY by day the shadows grow 
Shorter on the sleeping snow ; 
Day by day the sunbeams fall 
Closer to our garden wall. 

When the noon-day sun shall glint 
On boxwood, balm, and peppermint, 
I'll know that Spring has come, and then 
Hurrah ! I shall get out again. 




MORNING SONG 




W^ 




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7^ 


'[|WE BRUSH OUR f 


1 l^OOTS 


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P 



HIS is the way we brush 

our boots ; 
Make them bright both 

left and right. 
This is the way we 

brush our boots 
To go to school in the 

morn in g. 



The dewy grass is growing green ; 
The face of every flower is clean, 
And children also should be seen 
As fair for school in the morning. 



MORNING SONG 






|wT WASH our] Br 


FTXCEJ] 







HIS is the way we wash 

our face, 
Leave no speck on 

cheek or neck. 
This is the way we 

wash our face 
To go to school in the 

morning. 



The birds have had their bath, and now 
They preen their wings on twig and bough, 
And, chirping, tell all children how 
To wasli and dress in the morning. 



13 



MORNING SONG 





HIS is the way we comb 
our hair. 
From the crown we 
shade it down. 
■r This is the way we 
comb our hair 
To go to school in the 
morning. 



The clouds that looked so black last night 
Are sailing now all snowy white ; 
And boys and girls should be as bright 
To go to school in the morning. 



14 



MORNING SONG 





HIS is the way we brush 

our clothes. 
Children must beware 

of dust. 
This is the way we 

brush our clothes 
To go to school in the 

morning. 



We'll get our breakfast and away, 
With half-an-hour to run and play, 
And so begin a happy day 

In time for school in the morning. 




15 



MORNING SONG 




ND that is the way that 

boys and girls 
Who would be seen 

both neat and clean, 
This is the way that 

boys and girls 
Prepare for school in 

the morning. 




i6 





HEN the table-cloth is laid 

And the cups are on the table ; 
When the tea and toast are made, 

That's a happy time for Mabel. 
Stealing to her mother's side, 

In her ear she whispers low, 
"When papa comes in I'll hide; 

Do not tell him where I go." 



17 



.^I.DINQ 



On her knees upon the floor ; 

In below the sofa creeping ; 
When she hears him at the door 

She pretends that she is sleeping. 
*' Where is Mabel ? " father cries, 

Looking round and round about. 
Then he murmurs in surprise, 

'' Surely Mabel can't be out." 




First he looks behind his chair, 

Then he peers below the table, 
Seeking, searching everywhere, 

All in vain for little Mabel. 
But at last he thinks he knows ; 

And he laughs and shakes his head ; 
Says to mother, " I suppose 

" Mabel has been put to bed. " 



1 8 



HIDING 

But when he sits down to tea, 

From beneath the sofa creeping, 
Mabel cHmbs upon his knee, 

Claps her hands : '' I was not sleeping." 
Father whispers, ''Where's my girl's 

Very secret hiding place ? " 
But she only shakes her curls, 

Laughing, smiling in his face. 



l^< 




19 



wAmc. 




SUMMER'S sunny days have come ; 
Soft and sweet the wind is blowing ; 
B^'s across the meadow hum 

Where the golden flowers are growing ; 
Fields and trees are green and fair, 
And sunshine's sleeping everywhere. 



W A P I N G 

0, the sunny summer days, 

When the ripples dance and quiver ; 
And the sun at noontide lays 

Star-like jewels on the river ! 
Take your shoes off ; wade in here 
Where the water's warm and clear. 




Listen to the song it s'mgs, 
Ever rippling, ever flowing; 

Telling of a thousand things ; 

Whence it comes, and whither going 

Singing, like the birds and bees, 

Of the wondrous world it sees. 

21 



WADINl^ 



<< CoHie, and I shall bathe your feet, 
Little boys, so warm with playing 

In the summer's sultry heat." 

That is what the stream is saying. 

Off go jacket, socks, and shoes. 
-How eoiild any boy refuse? 




See the fishes dart aboiit. 

Where a thousand lights are dancing 
Here a minnow, there a trout, 

Like a sword of silver glancing. 
Is it hide-and-seek they play 
Through the sunny summer day ? 



WADING 



All the wood is filled with sound, 
And the very air is ringing. 

Up and down and all around, 

With the songs the birds are singing. 

O, the golden summer hours, 

When earth's a paradise of flowers ! 




23 



A LOST WEEK. 




woke one dar with wrecks 

and ships 
All topsf-tuny it! mj^head; 
And I learned tnis from 



mofher'3 tips, 
TThaJ I had been a week in bed. 



24 



A LOST WEEK 

I'd slept so sound though I was ill, 
I had not felt the slightest pain ; 

Yet mother said I must lie still 
And try to fall asleep again. 




To sleep a week was long enough ; 

And not to wake, and not to know 
That I'd been drinking nasty stuff 

From bottles standing in a row. 



Yet still my eyes would not keep wide, 
Even though I heard the shouts of boys 

And happy girls at play outside, 

And knew the sound of every voice. 



25 



A LOST WEEK 



The voices died to a drowsy hum ; 

And in the distance, low and deep, 
I heard the roll of the engine drum, 

And then— I must have fallen asleep. 




26 



5^LlNO 




27 



SAILING , 

What a pretty boat it is, 

Sail and mast and all ! 
Father made it just like his,. 

Only very small. 
And I'm going to call it " Sun," 
For that's the name of father's one; 




Little waves, come up and creeps 

Round my little boat ; 
Where the water's ankle-deep 

I shall see it float ; 
And you'll sing your sweetest song 
As it sails and sails along. 



28 



S A I L I N G: 

See, my boatie mounts and dips 

Where you break in foam. 
Tell it how the big, big ships 

Sail so far from home ; 
Wh^t they brmg, and where they go ; 
And the thousand things you know. 




What is it you sing about ? 

Tell me what you say, 
Coming in and going out, 

All the summer day. 
Whisper to my boat and me 
Of the ship& far out at sea. 



SAILING. 

Now we're sailing, brave and bold,. 

With the gentle breeze ; 
Seeing islands laid with gold 

Far in foreign seas, 
Where the skies are bright and clear, 
And it's summer all the year. 

Little waves, now must you bring 

My boatie safe to land. 
We've listened to the songs you sing 

Creeping o'er the sand. 
When I grow older I'll find out 
The lovely lands you talk aboijt. 




30 




N Spring the sun shines clear and 
bright 

And calls us out to run and play, 
For, though the winds are cold at night, 
The steaming ground is warm all day. 



31 



SANTA GLAUS 




When Summer brings the birds and bees, 
And flowers wave o'er all the land, 

We want to play among the trees 
Or dig for sand-eels in the sand. 




In Autumn, when the golden sheaves 
Are ranked about the fields in scores 

And ruddy tints are on the leaves, 
You do not wish to stay indoors. 



32 



SANTA CLAUS 

But when the birds and bees are dumb 
And Jack Frost stills the bubbling brooks, 

It's then that Santa Ciaus will come 
And bring you lots of toys and books. 



Is it not kind of Santa Claus, 
To think of little girls and boys 

When winter nights are long, because 
That's just the time they wish 'for toys? 




33 




W HEN winter hangs the hedge with haws 
And whitens hemlocks round the 
park, 
We can't get out to play, because, 
As soon as tea is done, it's dark. 



It's hard to have to stay at home 

When haws are ripe for hemlock guns; 

And so through foreign lands we roam 
To seek the fruits of tropic suns. 
34 



WINTER NIGHTS 

Rob folds the screen ; and in a nook 
Of dates and figs sits down to feast, 

And fills it from his picture book 
With ^ bears and every kind of beast. 




I turn the stool up; take my seat 
And sail away to Sinbad-shore, 

Where, setting it upon its feet, 
I ride a thousand miles and more. 

And to her dolls May's humming low 
The songs that all dolls understand, 

While mother knits and doesn't know 

Her chair's the harbour where we'll land. 




35 




E get our books when play is 
^_j done ; 

And May with Bunyan from the shelf 
Reads through the pictures one by one 
And makes a story up herself. 




STORY TIME 

And Rob slays giants tall as trees 
And witches that infest the land ; 

Their prisoned princesses he frees 

And fights with dragons hand to hand. 



While round the world with Drake I sail, 
And drive the great Armada back ; 

Or toil through seas of ice, and nail 
Against the Pole the Union Jack. 




37 




HUSH-A-BYE, baby, hush-a-bye, ba ! 
Gooing one, cooing one, rest. 
The round sun's already asleep in his beddie 
And dreaming a dream of the West. 
Hush-a-bye, hush-a-bye, ba ! 
Comfy and cosy, 
Backie and bosie, 
Till morning, sweet morning, ta ta ! 
38 



LULLABY 




Hush-a-bye, baby, hush-a-bye, ba ! 
Blinking one, winking one, rest. 
The gloaming is falling and curfew is calling 
The little birds home to their nest. 
Hush-a-bye, hush-a-bye, ba ! 
Comfy and cosy, 
Feetie and toesie. 
Till morning, bright morning, ta ta ! 




Hui§h-a-bye, baby, hush-a-bye, ba ! 
Smile you now, while you now sleep. 

39 



LULLABY 

The starnies are twinkling above you, and sprinkling 
Baby stars down on the deep. 
Hush-a-bye, hush-a-bye, ba ! 
Comfy and cosy, 
Eyesey and nosey, 
Till morning awake thee, ta ta ! 




40 




42 



THE WORLDS MU'^IC 



THE world's a very happy place, 
Where every child should dance and sing, 
And always have a smiling face, 
tAnd never sulk for anything. 

I waken when the morning's come, 

And feel the air and light alive 
With strange sweet music like the hurri' 

Of bees about their busy hive. 

The linnets play among the leaves 

At hide-and-seek, and chirp and sing; 

While, flashing to and from the eaves, 
The swallows twitter on the wing. 




43 



THE WORLD'S MUSIC 

And twigs that shake, and boughs that sway ; 

And tall old trees you could not climb ; 
And winds that come, but cannot stay, 

Are singing gaily all the time. 

From dawn to dark the old mill-wheel 
Makes music, going round and round ; 

And dusty-white with flour and meal, 
The miller whistles to its sound. 




The brook that flows beside the mill, 
As happy as a brook can be, 

Goes singing its own song until 
It learns the singing of the sea. 

For every wave upon the sands 

Sings songs you never tire to hear. 

Of laden ships from sunny lands 
Where it is summer all the year. 
44 



THE WORLD'S MUSIC 

And if you listen to the rain 

When leaves and birds and bees are dumb, 
You hear it pattering on the pane 

Like Andrew beating on his drum. 

The coals beneath the kettle croon, 

And clap their hands and dance in glee ; 

And even the kettle hums a tune 
To tell you when it's time for tea. 

The world is such a happy place 
That children, whether big or small, 

Should always have a smiling face 
x\nd never, never sulk at all. 




45 





WHEN we are fast asleep 
in bed, 
And hear in dream the 
sound of song, 
The moon and stars high over- 
head 
Are making music all nighlfe 
long. 



46 




TME BIRDS SONGS 



WHAT do the birds all sing about 
Through the Hvelong summer day? 
The swallows call, " Come out ; come out," 
And the blackbirds whistle, "To play." 

The mavis sings to the rosy dawn 
Till the sun comes into the sky, 

And flings his gold about the lawn 
Where the dewy diamonds lie. 



The lark leaps from the broomy links, 
And shakes from his wings the dew 

And soaring sings, until he blinks 
A speck in the azure blue. 

' . 47 



THE BIRDS' SONGS 

Then every bower finds a voice ; 

And linnets and finches sing; 
The grasses dance ; the whins rejoice ; 

And the bells of the blue-bell ring. 

Thus all the day do birdies sing 

Until the light grows dim ; 
And then the lark on soaring wing 

Towards heaven again must hymn. 

The mavis tunes his throat anew, 

And, piping to the west, 
He bids the dying day adieu 

And sings a song of rest. 

'' O what a happy world is ours 

In summer and in spring, 
With fields and trees and grass and flowers ! " 

That's what the birdies sing. 




^^' 



48 




THE WIWD') SONG 



O WINDS that blow across the sea, 
What is the story that you bring^ 
Leaves clap their hands on every tree 
And birds about their branches sing. 

You sing to flowers and trees and birds 
Your sea-songs over all the land. 

'Could you not stay and whisper words 
A little child might understand ? 




'49 



THE WIND'S SONG 

The roses nod to hear you sing ; 

But though I Hsten all the day. 
You never tell me anything 

Of father's ship so far away. 



Its masts are taller than the trees ; 

Its sails are silver in the sun ; 
There's not a ship upon the seas 

S'o beautiful as father's one. 




With wings spread out it flies so fast 
It leaves the waves all white with foam. 

Just whisper to me, blowing past, 
If you have seen it sailing home. 



I feel your breath upon my cheek, 
And in my hair, and on my brow. 

Dear winds, if you could only speak, 
I "khow what you wdufd tell me now. 

•50 



THE WIND'S SONG 




My father's coming home, you'd say, 
With precious presents, one, two, three ; 

A shawl for mother, beads for May, 
And eggs and shells for Rob and me. 

The winds sing songs where'er they roam ; 

The leaves all clap their, .little hands ; 
For father's ship is coming home 

With wondrous things from foreign lands. 




51 



p(^^^^^^^ 




THE SONG or THE KETTLE 



WHEN I come hungry home from school, 
I like to hear the kettle sing ; 
And, seated on the kitchen stool, 
I watch it hanging from the swing 

52 



IHE SOiNG OF THE KETTLE 

At first it does not say a word ; 

And then it tries a chirp or two, 
And cheeps a bit, just Hke a bird 

That wonders what he'll sing to you. 

But when its throat is cleared it sings 
Of honey gathered h^ ^^'^ Dee ; 

Of cream and jam and all the things 
That you would like to have at tea.- 

And then I shut my eyes and bcH] 
The bees hum sweetly as they pass ; 

And see the lazy cows quite clear 
Go wading ankte deep in erass ■ 

And harvest fields and hill and sky : 
The river and the old mill-v/heel, 

Where horse and cart go rumbling by 
With swelling sacks of flour and meal. 




53 



THE SONG OF THE KETTLE, 

That's what the kettle sings about ; 

I see them hke the things you dream ; 
When all at once its crooked spout 

Sends out a gush of hissing steam. 



The lid goes rattling up and down 

And won't keep quiet till mother's come. 

And soon the teapot, fat and brown, 
Is singing, and the kettle's dumb. 




54 




THE CKOW^ 



WHAT a famous noise there was 
In the morning when I rose ! 
All the air was hoarse with " caws," 
And the sky was black with crows. 

Hundreds circling round the trees 
Swooped down on a last year's nest; 

Rose and scattered, then, like bees, 
Swarmed again and could not rest- 




THE CROWS 

Cawing, cawing all the time ; 

Till it grew to one great voice, 
And you could not hear the chime 

Of the school clock for the noise. 



Every garden bush has heard, 

Through its tiny twigs and shoots ; 

And the trees have all been stirred 
Right down to their very roots. 



Buds of green on branch and stem 
Glisten in the morning sun • 

For the crows have wakened them, 
And they open one by one. 



On the hill, last night, there lay 
One white patch from winter-snows. 

Now it's melted clean away 
With |he cawing of the crows. 



And a primrose, too, has heard. 
Peeping out to nod and talk, 

From the hedge-roots to a bird, 
Hopping down the garden walk. 

57 



THE CROWS 

What a famous noise it was ! 

To make the trees and bushes hear, 
And fields and flowers and leaves, because 

The merry time of spring is near. 




58 



THE 'StA- ^HELL 




H 



OLD this buckie to your ear— 
What a pleasant sound you hear ! 
59 



THE SEA-SHELL 

All the happy sounds you've heard ; 

Hum of bee and song of bird ; 

What the gentle breezes sing 

When they wake the flowers in spring ; 

Songs of trees and running brooks ; 

Songs you never read in books, 

Of the waves and of the tides, 

And a thousand more besides ; 

Songs you've heard the whole year through, 

Has this buckie heard them too ? 



For it's here the breezes bring, 
Songs the fields and forests sing. 
Here the tides tell twice a day, 
Of the wonders far away. 
And the buckie drinks its fill 
Of their music, lying still, 
Listening with open mouth, 
To the songs of north and south. 



Through its winding whorls they creep, 
Where they're singing now in sleep, 
A thousand voices never done ; 
Arid you hear them all in one. 



60 



THE SEA-SHELL 

When its song is sad and low, 
The tide is going out, you know ; 
But it shouts with joy and pride, 
To welcome in the rising tide. 




&i 




WHAT THE 
LEAVE") "^AY: 



I HAVE heard the leaves, and know 
What they speak of, whispering low, 
As the breezes come and go. 

62 



WHAT THE LEAVES -SAY 

To the South they whisper, '• Please 
Tell us tales of other trees, 
You have seen across the seas." 



And the wind, which understands, 
Speaks of far off foreign lands, 
Till the leaves all clap their hands. 



For they hear about the vine, 
Growing by the castled Rhine, 
Flowing through a land of wine ; 



Orange groves and olive trees, 
Hanging o'er enchanted seas. 
And of fairer things than these ; 



Giant palm-leaves waving fair ; 
Fragrant figs that fill the air 
With an odour rich and rare. 



Thus the balmy South wnnds blow, 
Telling, as they come and go, 
Of the thousand trees they know. 
63 



WHAT THE LEAVES SAY 

But the angry East has tales 
All of storms and ships in gales ; 
Broken masts and tattered sails. 



And it swirls and shrieks, and breaks 
Frightened twigs away, and shakes 
Branches till the great trunk quakes. 



But the North wind, when it blows, 
Tells of ice in bergs and floes ; 
Bears and seals and Esquimaux. 



And it speaks of wondrous sights, 
When the magic northern lights 
Flare across its Arctic nights. 



To the green leaves as they hear, 
Shivering with a boding fear 
Of the winter drav/ing near, 



Comes the West, and whispers low, 
" Leaves and flowers shall not know 
Anything of frost and snow." 
64 



WHAT THE LEAVES SAY 

And it calls the birds to sing 
Songs of summer; songs of spring, 
Till the widest woodlands ring. 



Then the leaves all dance and play : 
Every branch and twig and spray, 
Calling to the West wind, " Stay ! " 



I have listened and I've heard 
What the leaves say, every word 
Like the chirping of a bird. 




65 




66 




68 




GOD watches o'er us all the day, 
At home, at school, and at our play; 
A.nd when the sun has left the skies 
He watches with a million eyes. 




69 




THE door was shut, as doors should be, 
Before you went to bed last night ; 
Yet Jack Frost has got in, you see, 
And left your window silver white. 



He must have waited till you slept ; 

And not a single word he spoke, 
But pencilled o'er the panes and crept 

Away again before you woke. . 

70 



JACK FROST 

And now you cannot see the trees 

Nor fields that stretch beyond the lane ; 

But there are fairer things than these 
His fingers traced on every pane. . 




Rocks and castles towering high ; 

Hills and dales and streams and fields ; 
And knights in armour riding by, 

With nodding plumes and shining shields. 



And here are little boats, and there 

Big ships with sails spread to the breeze ; 

A.nd yonder, palm trees waving fair 
On islands set in silver seas. 



And butterflies with gauzy wings ; 

And herds of cows and flocks of sheep ; 
And fruit and flowers and all the things 

You see when you are sound asleep. 
,71 



JACK FROST r 

For, creeping softly underneath 

The door when all the lights are out, 

Jack Frost takes every breath you breathe 
And knows the things you think about. 




He paints them on the window pane 
In fairy lines with frozen steam ; 

And when you wake you see again 
The lovely things you saw in dream. 




72 




WHEN I go to bed, if the night is fine, 
I should like to sit up late ; 
But in the morning I'd lie till nine 
When mother calls me at eight. 





T 



HIS is how the flowers grow : 
I have watched them and I know. 




74 



HOW THE FLOWERS GROW 

First, above the ground is seen 
A tiny blade of purest green, 
Reaching up and peeping forth 
East and West, and South and North. 




North, towards the hills it looks, 
To see the silver flash of brooks ; 
And it questions of the East 
If the winter winds have ceased. 



Turning South, it asks the sun 
If the springtime has begun ; 
From the West it seeks to know 
When its warmer winds will blow. 



Then it shoots up day by day. 
Curling in a curious way 
Round a blossom, which it keeps 
Warm and cosy while it sleeps. 

75 



HOW THE FLOWERS GROW 

For, although the sun be bright, 
Jack Frost walks abroad at night ; 
And tender buds would surely die 
If they were out when Jack went by. 

But when birds begin to sing 
Of the balmy breath of spring ; 
And the clouds in summer's quest 
All come sailing from the West ; 

Then the sunbeams find their way 
To the sleeping bud and say, 
" We are children of the sun 
Sent to wake thee, little one." 

And the leaflet opening wide 
Shows the tiny bud inside, 
Peeping with half-opened eye 
On the bright and sunny sky. 




^^^ww 



7b 



HOW THE FLOWERS GROW 

Breezes from the West and South 
Lay their kisses on its mouth ; 
Till the petals all are grown, 
And the bud's a flower full-blown 



That is how the flowers grow : 
I have watched them and I know. 




77 




3AD5ATH DP^^. 



I LIKE the Summer Sabbath days ; 
For father takes us out a walk 
Along the Banks or East the Braes ; 
And always of the flowers we talk. 



We find a snug and cosy nook, 

Where you might sit for hours and hours ; 
And father reads us from a book, 

What poets write about the flowers. 

7S 



SABBATH DAYS 

We hear the gowan's poet make 

A song about his bonny gem ; 
They smile around, and for his sake 

We stay our hands from pulUng them. 

And flowers that grow in wood and wold ; 

On hill and heath, on bank and bent ; 
We hear one call them, ' Blue and gold, 

Stars shining in earth's firmament.' 

He shuts the book ; and then we hear 
How fays and fairies sleep all day 

In cradle blooms ; till, tinkling clear, 
The dew-drops call them out to play. 

Of rounds and fairy rings, he tells, 

When beetles drone and glow-worms glow ; 

Till we hear the chime of the heather bells 
And a thousand bind-weed bugfles blow. 




79 



<^1^ 





SING a song of springtime ; 
Sing of March and May 
When the sun is cHmbing 

Higher every day ; 
Wakening and warming 

All the icy earth ; 
From the clay clods charming 
Flowers into birth : 



SPRINGTIME 

Hanging hawthorn hedges 

With a blooni of snow ; 
Kissing woodland edges ; 

Bidding violets grow. 
Wheresoe'er he lays his 

Light in golden bars, 
buttercups and daisies 

Gleam like suns and stars 




Tender-eyed primroses 

From their clustering leaves 
Leap to life in posies, 

Ranked around like sheaves, 
And where gorse is gilding 

Bushes bare and brown, 
Birds are busy building 

Quite a little town. 
Now it's wool their bringing ; 

Moss and straw and hay ; 
Songs of gladness singing 

All the happy day. 
82 



SPRINGTIME 

Sing a song of springtime ; 

Sing of April showers; 
Sing of golden butterflies 

And birds and bees and flowers, 




^^^^^V^^^V^^:-(^v 




83 




I SAW a bumble bee to-day 
Alight on a nettle leaf ; 
And when he had rested and buzzed away 
He was not buzzing in grief. 

84 



THE COWARD NETTLE 

" The nettle did not sting, you see," 

I said to mother and nurse ; 
" For the nettle knows if he stung the bee, 

The bee would sting him worse." 

The coward nettles only sting 

The hands that are soft and small, 

For the gardener grips them like anything 
And they don't hurt him at all. 




85 




So soft and gentle falls the rain, 
You cannot hear it on the pane ; 
For if it came in pelting showers, 

'Twould hurt the budding leaves and flowers. 




86 




FLOWERS from clods of clay and mud ! 
Flowers so bright, and grass so green ! 
Tell me, blade, and leaf, and bud, 
How it is you're all so clean. 

87 



A MYSTERY 



If my fingers touch these sods, 

See, they're streaked with sticky earth; 
Yet you spring from clayey clods, 

Pure, and fresh, and fair from birth. 

Do you wash yourselves at night. 

In a bath of diamond dew, 
That you look so fresh and bright 

When the morning dawns on you ? 




^^ 



God, perhaps, sends summer showers. 
When the grass grows grey for rain, 

To wash the faces of His flowers, 
And bid His fields be green again. 



A MYSTERY 



Tell me, blade, and leaf, and bud ; 

Flowers so fair, and grass so green, 
Growing out of clay and mud. 

How it is you're all so clean. 




89 




^[OWS in the meadow 
And birds in the 
tree ; 




90 



GOD'S WORK 




ORSES on highways 
And fish in the 
sea ; 





AILORS in 

schooners, 
And miners in 
mines, 





EEP down in pits 
where 
The sun never 
shines : . 





IRLS playing jin- 
go-ring ; 
Boys sounding 
tops ; 




91 



GOD'S WORK 




OTHERS in 

kitchens, 
And fathers in 
shops ; 





HE sun in the 

heavens, 
From morning to 
night, 





AKING the fields 
and flowers 
Laugh in his 
light ; 





ATCHING o'er 
everything 
All the day 
through ; 




92 



OD'S WORK 




WHAT a lot of 
work 
God has to do ! 










93 




IF children have been good all day, 
And kept their tongues and lips quite clean, 
They dream of flowers that nod and play, 
And fairies dancing on the green. 




94 



DREAMS 



But if they've spoken naughty words, 
Or told a lie, they dream of rats ; 

Of crawUng snakes, and ugly birds ; 
Of centipedes, and vampire bats. 



P^\ f^^ f^^ 



95 




OH, out in the golden harvest field, 
How pretty the men and women look, 
Reaping and winding, lifting and binding ! 
It's just like a picture you see in a book. 



96 



IN THE HARVEST-FIELL 




The reaper wheels are whirring loud ; 
The coupled horses prancing proud ; 
The driver swings the rake around ; 
The ripe grain falls with a sighing sound ; 
And men and women walk behind, 
Some to gather and some to bind ; 
Till sheaves, like partners, row on row, 
Stand waiting the sweep of the fiddle-bow. 

So up and down, with faces brown, 

All in their broad-brimmed hats of straw, 

Reaping and winding, lifting and binding ! 
A prettier picture you never saw. 




97 




ON the beach when the tide is out, 
The people meet and walk about ; 
And boys and girls come, spade in hand, 
To make great burrows in the sand. 




98 



ON THE BEACH 

S\''herefore the tide comes twice a day 
To wash the footprints all away, 
A.nd leave the sand so smooth and clean, 
You could not tell where holes had been. 



A.nd that is how the soft sea sand 

Is not all ups and downs like land, 

Where rough and sharp-edged stones are found, 

While the pebbles here are smooth and round. 




99 




I'VE read of children very sad, 
Who live, and not because they're bad, 
In houses where they do not hear 
The birdies sing through all the year. 



CITY SPARROWS 



They've lots of sparrows, but, poor thing, 
The sparrow cannot really sing. 
He only chirps, and twits, and tweets, 
And all because he lives in streets. 




For if he came and built his nest, 
As all the singing birds find best, 
In hedge or field, ere very long 
He would have learned to sing a song. 



lOI 



CITY SPARROWS 



So these poor children have not heard 
The songs of any singing bird, 
And they can only hear in dreams, 
The pebbly murmuring of streams. 



Nor have thep seen the round sun rise, 
All dripping in the eastern skies ; 
Nor seen him sinking in the west, 
Behind the purple hills to rest. 



The colliers coming from the pit. 
Seek out a sunny place to sit ; 
But big-town streets are built so high, 
They shut the sunshine from the sky. 



Could God not take these girls and boys 
Away from all the din and noise 
Of sunless streets, and set them where 
They would not breathe in smoke for air ? 



102 



CITY SPARROWS 



Here, in the fields they'd romp and run, 
To hear the birds and see the sun ; 
Till God would clap His hands and shout, 
To see His children run about. 




103 




SLEEFING 

WORLD. 



104 




TkE eartli kkh fallen fast asleep- 
Hills and fifeids bejrond thfe lane ; 
Ahd the night iia§ happed th^iri deep, 
In a snoWy ^ountferpanfe. 




105 




JOHN MALCOLM was the only man 
The biggest boys in the first class feared 
We gathered lip our stakes and ran, 
Whene'er we saw his grisly beard. 



For, if we played at marble-holes 

In Malcolm's pend — the grandest place, 

He'd creep out on his stocking soles 
To fright us with his hairy face. 
io6 



A PORTRAIT 

He didn't speak, but looked so dark 
And fierce at us, we couldn't play ; 

Just like a dog that doesn't bark, 
But bites behind, and runs away. 



Yet, when I lay so ill in bed, 

John Malcolm came up every night, 

To ask me what the doctor said 
And if I had been sleeping right. 



At last I could sit up a while ; 

And when he brought a shining ball. 
And books and toys, I saw him smile. 

And thought it wasn't John at all. 



How kind- it was to bring me toys ! 

But do you know what mother said ? 
That John had once two little boys 

Like Rob and me ; but they are dead. 



107 




CADDIE'S a dog of gentle ways ; 
He loves a quiet life, and stays 
Indoors on cold and rainy days. 



He curls himself up on a chair, 
His wee legs hidden anywhere ; 
You only see a mass of hair. 
io8 



CADDIE 

But speak his name, and then he'll rise 
And look, with calm and steady eyes, 
Through tangled locks, supremely wise. 

And when poor Caddie sits and blinks 
Before the fire, I know he thinks 
Of happy days on northern links. 

For that is where he used to stay ; 
And still at times he hies away. 
And sees in dream the golfers play. 




log 




ROMANCE 



I SAW a ship a-sailing, 
A-sailing on the sea ; 
Her masts were of the shining gold, 

Her deck of ivory ; 
And sails of silk, as soft as milk, 
And silvern shrouds had she. 
113 



ROMANCE 




And round about her sailing, 

The sea was sparkling white, 
The waves all clapped their hands and sang, 

To see so fair a sight. 
They kissed her twice, they kissed her thrice, 

And murmured with delight. 



Then came the gallant captain, 
And stood upon the deck ; 

In velvet coat, and ruffles white. 
Without a spot or speck ; 

And diamond rings, and triple strings 
Of pearls around his neck. 




114 



ROMANCE 



And four-and-twenty sailors 
Were round him bowing low ; 

On every jacket three times three 
Gold buttons in a row ; 

And cutlasses down to their knees ; 
They made a goodly show. 



And then the ship went sailing, 

A-sailing o'er the sea ; 
She dived beyond the setting sun, 

But never back came she, 
For she found the lands of the golden sands, 

Where the pearls and diamonds be. 




115 




ii6 



CHIVALRY 

Rob upon a clothes-pole, 

I upon a broom — 
Back, ye thorny branches, 

Give our chargers room ! 
Up and down the garden, 

Round and round the green, 
Knights go forth to battle 

For their King and Queen. 

Yonder is a castle, 

Where a coward knave 
Keeps a lovely princess 

Prisoned like a slave. 
" Ho, ye craven hearted, 

Cross a sword with me ! " 
Soon my trusty blade will 

Bring him to his knee. 
From the castle riding 

Back across the green, 
We shall bear the princess 

To the King and Queen. 




117 



CHIVALRY 

Now a band of robbers 

Meets us, ten to one. 
Here is work for heroes, 

Ere the day be done. 
Spurring on our chargers. 

Hand to hand we fight. 
Off go heads of nettles, 

Flying left and right. 
Such a crowd of victims 

Scattered o'er the green ! 
So should knights do battle 

For their King and Queen. 




ii8 



CHIVALRY 

But before we rested 

From the bloody fray, 
Rob reeled from his charger, 

Threw his sword away ; 
For a nettle stung him, 

And the pain was sore ; 
Wounded in the sword hand. 

He could fight no more. 
So we left our chargers 

Grazing on the green, 
Where we'd battled bravely 

For our King and Queen. 

Then we hurried homeward, 

Rob in pain and grief ; 
And I bound his wound up 

With a docken leaf. 
But when mother saw it, 

Blistered, hot, and red, 
" Wounded, but not vanquished,' 

That was what she said. 
And she told how heroes 

Gloried ta have been 
Wounded^ fighting bravely 

For their King and Queen. 




R0BW50N CKU^^E 




THE tide has turned ; the End Rock's bare. 
How fresh its hanging seaweeds show, 
Inviting us to wade out there 
And play at Robinson Crusoe ! 



With knickers pulled above the knees, 
My handkerchief to catch the wind, 

I bravely start across the seas, 
And pull my gallant ship behind. 



1 20 



ROBINSON CRUSOE 




We leave Rob standing on the beach, 
For he must wait his turn to play ; 

And, after many dangers, reach 
The island where I'm cast away. 



I jump ashore, a prisoner now, 

For here's my gallant bark, a wreck. 

The billows break against its prow, 
And seaweed falls across its deck. 



Then, first of all, I must explore 
The island ; but I see no sign, 

Except one print upon the shore 
Of any other foot than mine. 



But I discover, clear and cool, 

The sweetest dulse that one could wish, 
And whelks and crabs and, in a pool, 

A shoal of shining silver fish. 



ROBINSON CRUSOE 




I build myself a hut close by, 

With roaring buckies, large and white, 
Where, through a solen shell, I spy, 

If there be any sail in sight. 



Yet silently I move about — 

For crabs and whelks and fish are dumb 
Until my jacket inside out 

Tells Rob on shore it's time to come. 



And then at last there comes a noise. 
And not the sound of wind or wave. 

I see a face, and hear a voice 

That whispers to me, "White man, save. 



And when I've led him to a seat. 

He smacks his lips and asks for food. 

I run and fetch him dulse to eat, 
And with his thumb he calls it good. 

122 



ROBINSON CRUSOE 



But when we see a score of brown, 
Fierce cannibals upon our shore, 

We shoulder guns and shoot them down- 
And tangles fall to rise no more. 



At length we put them all to rout, 
When Friday, looking to the sea. 

Cries, all at once, " The tide is out," 
And then we know it's time for tea. 




123 




TIME 3^ TIDE 



A SCHOONER cam' ayont the quay ; 
An' oh, she was a sicht to see, 
Wi' silken sails an' masts o' gowd ; 
Her ropes in threeds o' silver row'd ! 
Oh, sic a bonny ship as this 
The waves cam' loupin' keen to kiss ! 
124 ■ 



TIME AND TIDE 

The skipper stapped upon the deck, 
A gowden chain about his neck, 
Wi' strings o' pearlins hanging doun. 
An' silver buckles on his shoon. 



'^ Oh, wha shall come an' sail wi' me 
To sunny lands ayont the sea, 
Whaur skies are o** the claudless blue, 
An' summer bides the twalmonth through. 



'^ Come, sign, an' sail across the main, 
Ye'U ne'er hae sic a chance again. 
For a better craft there could na be 
Than the 'Gowden Opportunity.'" 




125 




OUR garret has a secret door 
That hes flat down upon the floor ; 
And when 5^ou're up and let it slip 
You'd think you were on board a ship. 



I^W^^^^^^^ 




126 



SHIPWRECK 

So here it is we come and play 
At sailors, on a rainy day. 
And when we touch at foreign isles, 
The raindrops thunder on the tiles. 



Three masts our ship has, tall and strong, 
With cross-trees all the way along. 
We draw the deck in lines of chalk, 
That show how far it's safe to walk. 



I am the skipper, because' I know 
The ports where all the big ships go ; 
And Rob is mate, and climbs the mast 
To speak the steamers sailing past. 




Jack-in-the-box and a wooden horse 
Are men before the mast, of course 
May's doll is cook— her second best- 
With empty reels for all the rest. 



SHIPWRECK 

Then Rob astride the cross-trees cries, 
His hand held out above his eyes : 
"There's rocks upon the weather bow. 
Too late, too late ! She's on them now. 



And when our gallant ship's a wreck, 
We haul the chests about the deck. 
Then falling down upon the floor, 
We swim until we reach the shore. 



There, sitting down to count the crew, 
We find that all are drowned but two. 
Of those who sailed across the sea. 
There's no one saved but Rob and rr^ 





rAIKTL:;\MD 



ON a sunny summer da}', 
When the very wind was warm, 
Little Nellie walked away, 
With a basket on her arm ; 



Past the fields and through the wood, 
Till she reached an open place, 

Where in wonder Nellie stood, 
With the sunlight on her face. 
I2g 



FAIRYLAND 

For it was a lovely sight 

Nellie saw that summer noon : 

Roses red and roses white, 
All the flowers of rosy June. 




Daisies from their slender stems 
Gazed up to the glorious sun ; 

Dewdrops lay like little gems 
In the eyes of every one. 

Golden buttercups were there, 
Pinks with kingly coronets ; 

While the perfume in the air J 
Told of hiding violets. 




130 



FAIRYLAND 

Grass and trees were fresh' and green, 
Blossoms white and red and blue ; 

Flowers that she had never seen, 
Fairer than the flowers she knew. 



What a wondrous spot it was, 
Lovelier than tongue can tell ! 

''Beautiful," she said, -'because 
This is where the fairies dwell. 



And she heard the birds and bees, 
Filling all the air with song ; 

While a brook among the trees 
Wimpled sweetly all day long. 

"Bees, oh, tell me, as you hum, 
Tell me, if you understand — 

Have I really, really come 
To the gates of Fairyland?" 




131 



FAIRYLAND 

But the birds and bees flew by, 
Singing, humming, every one ; 

And a golden butterfly 
Fluttered gaily in the sun. 



Then a cloud rose slowly up, 

Roses sighed and winds grew cold ; 

Daisy, pink, and buttercup 

Lost their silver and their gold. 




132 



r 



nrmLENTi 




133 



MY VALENTINE 

I wrote as neat 
As I could do 
The honey's sweet 
And so are you. 
And then made crosses in a line, 
For kisses on her valentine. 

Then must I say 

What none should miss : 
And so are they 

Who send you this. 
And every word was written fine 
Upon her pretty valentine. 




And last, how sweet 

To say to Cis, 
And when we meet 
We'll have a kiss. 
Now I shall write her name and mine, 
And take to her my valentine. 
134 



MY VALENTINE 

But when I got 

To Cissy from, 
I made a blot 
Instead of Tom. 
And big tears fell on every line ; 
So Cissy lost her valentine. 




135 




136 




137 



^M:m- 




•T9 KPB W^D may: • 



DEAR May, you're quite a lady now, 
Of quiet speech and placid brow. 
But still I look and recognise 
The May of childhood in your eyes. 
And so your eyes may read my rhymes, 
And see again those happy times, 
When skies were always bright and clear. 
And days of sunshine filled the year. 
139 



TO ROB AND MAY 

And Rob, who sailed to other lands, 
But never found the golden sands 
We saw in dream in bygone days, 
May stumble on them in these lays ; 
Then close the book and play with me 
A dream-span by our sunny sea. 




140 







1AM gathering up to take a trip 
To London Town, to London Town. 
The cheapest way is to go by ship 
To far-away London Town. 
But quicker it is to go by rail ; 
So steaming away o'er hill and dale, 
I shall speed as fast as the Royal Mail 
To famous London Town. 
141 



TO BESSIE 



I cannot come whenever I will 

To London Town, to London Town. 
Or I'd stand to-morrow on Denmark Hill, 

In far-away London Town. 
For, oh, it's there that I fain would be ! 
Where a little lass that I long to see 
Is watching and waiting to welcome me 

To famous London Town. 




But I'm coming up to print a book 

In London Town, in London Town; 
That will bring the songs of bird and brook 

To far-away London Town. 
And when it comes 5 from the printing press 
I'll send it straight to the good Queen Bess 
And Denmark Hill is my Queen's address, 
In famous London Town. 



142 



TO BESSIE 



And she shall read her name in verse 

In London Town, in London Town; 

And the names of little friends of hers 
Far away from London Town. 

But when I come I mustn't miss 

A great reward for doing this — 

A kiss of greeting and a good-bye kiss 
From Bessie in London Town. 




143 




DEAR May and Mary, here's a book 
Of songs for little boys and girls, 
Where older folks in vain may look 

For grains of gold or goodly pearls. 
For grown-up people, being dull, 

Will only see the lines and words, 
Where bright-eyed little ones may cull 
The flowers and hear the songs of birds. 
144 



TO MAY AND MARY 




~it/ir>; 



And so I send this book to you, 

Whose hearts are pure, whose eyes are clear ; 
And when you've read it through and through 

You'll find your own names printed here. 
And one of you will criticise, 

And pick and choose and pass and praise; 
The other one, with dreamy eyes, 

Will see a world of summer days. 




145 



TO MAY AND MARY 

And in your cosy bed at night 

The one will hear my songs in bars 
Of music ; while on wings of light 

The other glides among the stars ; 
And on, and on, and on, she'll float, 

Until she reach the Milky Way, 
Returning in a moonbeam boat, 

And wakening on the rim of day. 




146 







AUMTIE 



DEAR Auntie, in the afternoon, 
When you sit down to read and rest, 
Perchance you'll hear the embers croon 
The rhymes of mine you liked the best ; 



147 



TO AUNTIE 

Until you close your eyes in dreams, 
And see some far-off August morn, 

Two little lads who trudge from Wemyss, 
To stay with Auntie in Kinghorn. 




148 



TO ttie: 




B)9TS OF BAKNCKAIC. 



ALONG the old familiar shore 
I walked as in the days gone by, 
Vnd heard the waves sing as of yore, 
When life was young and "hopes were high. 



149 



TO THE BOYS OF BARNCRAIG 

And through the Hnks the footpath wound, 
Unchanged as to our boyhood's feet, 

Beyond the Lady's Rock, and round 
The caves and down to Milly's seat, 

Where children climb and romp and race, 
And every one comes to recall 

A far-away, familiar face, 

Though I'm a stranger to them all. 

They play their games with rules, and rhymes 
From other days and other boys ; 

1 hear a clinking phrase at times. 
And start to recognise the voice. 

So resting here, I see again 
A score of schoolboys trudging by ; 

And hear them laugh and shout, as when 
They played with Time and let it fly. 

They march away to war in fun, 
Behind a ragged lad, who looks 

A hero in the eyes of one 
Who tells them stories out of books. 



tso 



TO THE BOYS OF BARNCRAIG 




I see the cannon where we played 
At soldiers, when we beat the Czar ; 

The wreck still lies where once we made 
Our gallant fight at Trafalgar. 

There Nelson led us in the fight, 

And swung his books around his head 

Then hurling them with all his might, 
He left a "hundred Frenchmen dead. 



And heedless of his boots and socks, 
He plunged into the dub and chased 

The flying ships against the rocks, 
Until the water touched his waist. 



The years go by ; I watch them still, 
And see how thin our ranks have grown. 

For one by one they go, until 
I'm left to trudge the road alone. 



151 



TO THE BOYS OF BARNCRAIG 

For they had lives to live, and went 
To pit and bench, to board and stool ; 

But I'd to live in books, and spent 
The wasted years of youth at school. 




Now, thinking of you all to-day, 
And of your full and healthy lives, 

I see in dream your children play. 
And hear the prattle of your wives. 

And if at all you think of him 

Who once was of you, or at times. 

Perchance, when day is growing dim, 
Remember snatches of his rhymes ; 

Then call your children round, and read 
Some verses from these simple lays, 

And so perhaps they'll win the meed 

He cannot find them — childhood's praise. 



152 



TO THE BOYS OF BARNCRAIG 

^ For you have wives with smiling looks, 
And happy children all your own ; 
But he who told you tales from books 
Lives in his book-world yet, alone. 




153 




r\EAR children, living everywhere, 
*-^ In country lane, in street, or square, 
I would that I might take your hand, 
And lead you into Fairyland, 
Where life is all a sunny day, 
And summer lasts from May to May ; 
Where woods and fields are green and fair, 
And songs of gladness fill the air ; 
For birds and flowers and everything 
That lives has got a song to sing. 
154 



TO ALL CHILDREN 

And here three little children dwell, 
Far happier than tongue can tell ; 
Through wood and vale and field they roam, 
For Fairyland is all their home. 
The birds come to them when they call, 
And lambs and sheep, they know them all ; 
And winds and trees and bays and brooks 
These children have for lesson books. 
Oh, joyous is the life they spend, 
Where every flower is their friend. 



Oh, children, I would take your hand, 
And lead you to that Fairyland; 
Where childhood's still a world of dream. 
With songs of bird and wind and stream. 
And should you read this book and stay 
Where those three happy children play, 
Though only for an hour it be, 
The book will bless both you and me. 



■(T 




155 




156 




157 






158 



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